Definition of a Demon
by lady-in-spain
Summary: Jace Wayland is left in a world of mundanes, where Nephilim & Downworlders have been wiped out. But when a random girl sees through his glamour, everything changes. She brings on new adventures & thrills that will Jace's life forever. She's Clary Fray.
1. Cenophobia

Better Summary:

2010, all Nephilim and Downworlders have been wiped out. No one knows what has caused it, & the only thing mundanes notice is that all over the world, people have been dying because of an unseen force. They think it's the beginning of the next World War. They're wrong. Demons are on the loose, no one stopping them on their killing-spree.

But there is one Nephilim left. His name is Jace Wayland. He resides in New York and lives like a normal mundane, though sometimes he covers himself in glamour when he doesn't want to be bothered. He kills each demon he comes across, but that's not much help when he's the only Shadowhunter on the planet.

Mundanes find all these deaths as the sign of the apocalypse, the end of the world. They're pretty much correct. Some religious leaders are drifting toward one theory that's pretty interesting though. The return of the Nephilim, the hybrid race created by God. Some believe it's the start of a nuclear war.

But, when a random girl sees through Jace's glamour, his _Nephilim-less _world is thrown into chaos. It's a sign, Jace thinks, the beginning of the return of the Nephilim.

**A/N: ** **In my story, Jace has never met Clary or Simon or Luke. Valentine was captured and killed in 2009, when he tried to take over the Clave. **

**Also, Jocelyn was killed by Valentine right after she gave birth to Clary, so Clary lives with her adoptive parents. **

**Enjoy & Review! **

**Cenophobia: Fear of new things.   
**

"Clary, up, up, up! Big day today," my adoptive mom, Karen shouted from outside my bedroom door. I groaned and sat up, wiping sleep out of my eyes. Stretching my arms over my head, I walked into my bathroom and switched on the water faucet. Stripping down, I let the hot water melt my nerves about my first day of Junior year at St. Xaviers.

After my shower I dried off, pulling on the St. Xavier's uniform: navy blue plaid skirt, white button down shirt with a navy blue tie, red blazer with blue trim, the school emblem in the right corner, red knee high socks, and black ballet flats. I brushed out my thick red curls before clipping back my bangs with a silver hairclip. I slung my black bag over my shoulder and made my way downstairs, into the kitchen.

Karen and Brandon, my adoptive parents, were already there. Karen was mixing her usual cup of coffee while Brandon read the newspaper. The front page headline blared out at me. _Babysitter, 3 Children, Found Dead in Brooklyn_. I gasped, almost dropping my banana.

"Brooklyn?" I asked out loud. "Did we know them?" My dad shook his head mournfully, running a hand through his graying hair.

"It's terrible," my mom said, clicking her tongue. Right on time, the doorbell rang out.

"That must be Simon," I told them. I kissed them both on the cheek. They wished me luck and I went to answer the door. Simon stood there in his school uniform, his dark hair disheveled and his shirt un-tucked. "You better tuck in your shirt if you don't want Snavely to put you on _the list_," I told him, mocking the way Principle Snavely threatened kids about "the list". Simon chuckled and we headed out the door. I hailed a taxi and Simon and I settled in, giving the driver directions.

"So, nervous?" Simon asked casually, finishing my banana.

"I don't get nervous," I told him. He smirked at that. "Why, are you nervous?"

"Me? Nah, I've got a good feeling about this school year," he replied. I didn't have a reply for that because, honestly, I thought the exact opposite. It's not that I wouldn't have much friends, which I knew I wouldn't. Simon was enough. And anyways, I hardly had any "girlfriends". All girls I tried to make friends with would backstab me or use me to get to Simon. We rode the rest of the way to school in silence.

Entering the double doors of St. Xavier's, we approached the usual long table filled with class schedules, locker numbers, and school maps. I grabbed a schedule and retrieved my locker key from one of the kids on the Welcome Committee. Simon followed me to my locker. Inside, there were two sets of books. One for me, and one for the person who would share the locker with me.

"Hey, Fray, I better find my locker," Simon explained to me. I frowned.

"You're right. See you at lunch?" I asked him. He nodded and gave me one last smile before being swallowed by the crowd of teenagers. I turned back to my locker, checking my schedule and dumping the right books in my bag. I felt a slight tap on my shoulder and turned to find myself facing a boy who looked to be about my age. I tried not to gasp as I took in his features. He had golden blond hair that was perfectly tousled, golden smoldering eyes and was perfectly built, like a sculpture.

"Yes?" I asked the boy, trying to control my nerves.

"Is this locker 450?" he asked, his tone and expression blank.

"Yeah, it is," I replied.

"Guess I'm your locker mate this year," the boy said, brushing past me to get to his books.

"And _you_ are?" I asked him.

"Jace Wayland, try not to drool on my new shoes," he answered, stuffing books into his bag. I gasped, crossing my arms.

"Don't worry about it," I told him venomously. He zipped his bag shut and slung it over his shoulder. He turned to me with an amused smile.

"What's your name?"

"Clary Fray."

"Nice to meet you Clary Fray," Jace said, offering a hand. I took it loosely. Suddenly, Jace lurched forward, bumping into me. His face was an expression of shock, but he instantly twisted it into a mask of irritation. He turned to face the Senior boy behind him. I recognized him. Frank Lumbert. He was the total King of the Hallways. He got all the girls he wanted with his charm and good looks, and he was the captain of the Lacrosse team. No one dared to rival him. I moved up a bit to stand by Jace. His eyebrow was raised and he smiled arrogantly at Frank. Frank glared back. "Well, I think you owe me an apology," Jace said in a surprisingly bored voice.

"I don't owe you anything, dumbass," Frank sneered at him, stepping closer threateningly.

"Dumbass?" Jace repeated. "That's a big word for you, isn't it?" Jace asked.

"Who do you think you are, Junior?" Frank said, rage in his tone. His hands curled into fists but Jace just smirked at him, crossing his arms.

"I think I'm Jace Wayland, the hottest Junior in this prep school, easily the hottest Junior on the planet. Who do you think _you_ are?" Jace asked him, examining his _fingernails_. Clary watched him in utter shock.

"Watch yourself hotshot," Frank sneered, giving Jace another threatening glare before turning away and walking off.

"You're obviously new here," I told Jace as I turned back to my locker and sorted through my books.

"What makes you say that?" Jace asked, leaning against the locker next to mine. I mean, _ours_.

"People never talk to Frank Lambert like that," I reply. "Well, unless they're retarded."

"Who, that toolbag? I can take him," Jace retorted hotly. I shut the locker and started to walk off. Jace fell into step beside me. "What class do you have first?" he asked. I examined my schedule.

"History," I told him.

"Perfect." Jace's smile was confident and cocky. A various amount of girls stared as he walked by. Guess I can't blame them. The bell rings just as we enter the classroom. I don't see Simon, so I'm guessing he doesn't have this class. Jace and I take two seats in the back corner.

"Good morning class," a short lady said from the front of the room. Her crazy curly brown hair suggested she was new. "I'm Ms. Borgof, your history teacher." I pulled out my history textbook. Jace did the same. I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. He still had the overconfident smile on his face, but he looked a little loss, unsure of what to do next.

"What school did you come from?" I asked him as Ms. Borgof drew on the chalkboard.

"Homeschooled." He replied simply. _Oh_, I mouthed.

"That explains it," I said quietly.

"What does it explain?"

"You're expression. You look lost," I told him with a smile. He contorted his face into an expression of disbelief, the look of lost in his eyes gone.

"I'm Jace Wayland. I don't get _lost_," he responded irritably.

"Oh, okay you don't get lost," I assured him. "You just become very confused and don't know where to go or what to do."

"Pay attention to the teacher, Clary," Jace said spitefully. I rolled my eyes and looked to the front of the classroom. Class ended eventually and Jace and I exited the classroom.

"Do you plan on following me the whole day?" I asked Jace as we walked down the hall to our next class, English. Jace snorted.

"Oh, I get it," he started, "you don't want to be seen with me, do you?" I blinked and laughed.

"I'm not like that," I told him.

"Truth is, I don't have any friends here," Jace replied. "Yet," he added with a smirk, winking at a passing girl. I rolled my eyes.

"I'm sure any of those girls would die to be your tour guide," I said as we entered the classroom. The teacher wasn't in the room yet.

"So quick to get rid of me?" Jace asked, a hand on his chest, faking shock and hurt. "If you want, I guess…" Jace said, starting to get up. I grabbed his arm quickly.

"No, you can stay," I spit out hastily. "One new friend won't hurt me." Jace gave a small smile before sitting back down. I smiled, my heart fluttering in my chest.

"So, this is English class huh?" he asked, laying his hands on top of the wood desk. "Exciting." Right at that moment, the three girls in front of us turned around. I recognized them. Regina Hewit, Morgan Smith, and Reese Vuntaug. Supposedly the elite of the Junior class. I was friends with them once. And then, of course, they became too full of themselves and cast me out of their square, which is now a triangle. Reese, always in the middle, ever since we were in kindergarten, gave Jace a bright smile. He raised an eyebrow and smiled back. She leaned over on the back of her chair.

"Hey Clare," she addressed me, still looking at Jace. "Why don't you introduce us to your new friend?" she asked, a glint in her eyes. I let out a sharp laugh.

"I'm sure you're capable of introducing yourself," I told her, narrowing my eyes. Now she turned to me, her mouth a thin line.

"Jeeze, Clary, take a chill pill," she said to me.

"Chill pill?" I repeated, incredulous. "Who _says_ that Reese?"

"You know, you're still the stubborn brat we left you as," Morgan sneered.

"And you're still the shallow bitches I used to be friends with," I said, the rage of being out casted spilling into my voice. "But with fatter hips & thighs, you know?" Morgan blanched at that. Reese ignored that and turned back to Jace, who was looking at me with a bit of surprise, but also respect, as if he was impressed.

"I'm Reese," Reese told him, smiling. Jace tore his eyes away from mine.

"I'm Jace," he replied.

"You're new here, huh?" she inquired. Jace just nodded. I tapped my fingernails on the desk and exhaled loudly. "Duh," I said under my breath. I could see Jace's lips turn up in the corner. "Well, tell me if you need a tour guide," Reese told him, a hidden meaning beneath her voice.

"Sure thing," Jace responded. He didn't seem quite interested though. Reese and the two other girls turned back around reluctantly. I kept my head down, looking at my desk as my fingernails tapped out a bland rhythm. I could feel Jace's eyes on me. "You get jealous quickly," he pointed out loftily.

"I do not!" I protested.

"It's okay, I get that a lot," he said, waving a hand.

"Get _what_ a lot?"

"Girls going gaga over me," Jace pointed out, as if I should have known.

"I am _not_ going 'gaga' over you," I told him, my hand slapping the desk. Where the heck was the teacher?

"Not yet, at least," Jace countered plainly. I gasped.

"You don't even know me," I objected.

"Not yet, but I'd love to," he said with a laugh, a bit of sarcasm in his voice.

"I've got a boyfriend," I blurted out without thinking, trying to mask my surprise at what I just said.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

Jace muttered something under his breath that sounded like, "Bet he's not as gorgeous as me." I sighed, exasperated.

"You're unbelievable."

"That's part of what makes girls go gaga over me."

Well, he's got that right.

**A/N: Hope you guys liked it! Review, review, review (:**


	2. Oneirophobia

**A/N: this chapter is from Jace's POV. **

**Oneirophobia: Fear of Dreams. **

Clary and I entered the school cafeteria. I followed her as she led me to the dozens of kids lining up to buy their lunch. We both took a tray. We slid along, Clary only taking a sandwich, an apple, and a bottle of water, while I piled food on my tray. Clary took one look and rolled her eyes. "Boys," she muttered. I stood behind her as she surveyed the room. She smiled and waved at some kid and I followed as she made her way to the boy. He sat at a round table, his lunch tray in front of him. I stiffened. This must be her boyfriend. He was a particularly good looking boy, with dark hair and glasses.

"Hey Simon," Clary greeted him as she took a seat next to him. Reluctantly, I sat down next to her, casting glances around the cafeteria. I noticed all the eyes locked on me, from jealous boys and day dreaming girls.

"Hey Fray," Simon greeted her.

"Uhm, this is Jace. He's new," Clary notified him, her voice uneven. I nodded at _Simon_ in greeting.

"So, you're Clary's boyfriend, huh?" I asked him. At first he looked puzzled, but with a look from Clary he smiled. But before he could respond, a voice rung out from a near by table.

"Hey, new kid!" the voice called out. I turned to find the girl from English, Reese, two tables away. She waved at me. Sitting at her table were a bunch of important looking Juniors. Flipping her blond hair over her shoulder, she beckoned at me. _Come_, it said.

"Go ahead," Clary drawled out suggestively. "Go claim your throne at the table of all mighty gorgeousness," she exclaimed mockingly, her hands in the air. I eyed her in disbelief. She really was interesting. "Leave us, we're totally engrossed in our conversation about _our_ almighty-ness." She smiled at me with laughter and light in her impossibly green eyes. I couldn't help but smile back. I lifted my tray and walked over to Reese, taking a seat across from her so I still had a view of Clary. Simon was telling her something passionately, his hands in the air, emphasizing his words. Clary was spinning her bottle cap with long slender fingers, nodding her head like she was listening. Occasionally, she would glance over at me and I would hold her gaze, until Simon waved a hand in front of her face. I chuckled and tuned into the conversation the people around me were having.

"So, Jace what school did you come from?" Reese asked me.

"I was homeschooled, actually," I admitted.

"Ooh, that's hot," another girl- I think someone called her Morgan- told me.

"Yeah, I know," I replied, picking at the cookie on my tray. Everyone laughed at that and the girl next to me swatted my shoulder. I couldn't help but glance up at Clary through my eyelashes. Like she felt my eyes on her, she looked sideways at me, then looked away quickly. I chuckled.

"What are you doing tonight?" Reese asked me, cocking an eyebrow.

"What'd you have in mind?" I inquired.

"Party at my house." She grinned with a mysterious glint in her eyes.

"Sounds good," I said, nodding. She reached out and took my hand, scribbling something on my palm with a Sharpie marker.

"Be there?" She asked. Though she was a mundane, she knew how to play me.

"You know it." The bell rang and everyone rose, dumping their trays and starting off to class. I stopped at the entrance, looking out over the sea of heads.

"Looking for someone special?" Clary asked, appearing beside me.

"Something like that," I confessed. "Where'd your boyfriend go?" I asked as I followed her. We ended up at our locker.

"Simon's not my boyfriend," she said simply, opening the locker.

"I figured." She turned on me.

"Did you now?"

"Yes, it's obvious really. You hold no interest in him at all," I told her assertively.

"You don't know that," Clary scolded, taking books out of her bag and trading them with books from her locker.

"Yes, I do actually," I retorted. Clary handed me a few books and I traded them with books I didn't need for the next few classes. "He's in love with you though." She turned again to stare at me with an angered expression.

"Is not!"

"Is too!" I answered. "But you don't love him back."

"Ugh! You don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm good at reading people Clary. Not that it's not an obvious fact," I said, running a hand through my hair.

"Are you always such an ass?" She asked, green fire blazing in her eyes. I couldn't help but smile. She slammed the locker shut and stormed off.

"Wait, Clary! Slow down, would you," I said, catching up to her. "I'm sorry. But I was wondering-"

"What?" she asked, exasperated.

"I was wondering," I started, showing her the address on my hand, "if you would like to come to a party with me tonight." Her mouth opened in shock, but quickly she masked it with suspicion.

"I highly doubt Reese wants me there," she said quietly, her tone firm.

"What do you care what she wants?" I shot at her, flashing a clever smile. She smiled back. I played with the cuff of my shirt, suddenly nervous.

"Pick me up at 8." She mumbled directions to her house, and we entered the classroom where I couldn't concentrate at all on what the teacher was babbling about. Something about Caesar. She actually accepted, my mind kept repeating.

I spent the rest of the day trailing Clary like a faithful golden retriever. She showed me around the hallways, pointing out teachers or students I should be warned about. We headed out to the student parking lot after dismissal. Reese, and the two girls who always followed her passed us. Reese glared at Clary with a hate that can't be named.

"Ugh!" Clary exclaimed. "Why do they hate me so much?!" She half-shouted, mostly to herself.

"They're just jealous," I responded.

"Oh, duh," she replied, her eyes angry. "They're jealous that you're following me around like some kind of hypnotized kid."

"Well, probably that," I admitted. We had reached my car and I leaned against it, facing Clary. "But also because it's obvious you've got a better chance of getting me than they do," I explained to her with a wink. She stuttered and crossed her arms, completely baffled. I couldn't help myself from laughing at her expression. "You need a ride home?" I asked, trying to hide the hope in my voice. Clary smiled sheepishly.

"Nah, I usually ride home with Simon." She notified me. "Maybe some other time." With a small wave, she turned on her heel and walked away. I saw Simon waiting for her by the sidewalk, a cab pulling up in front of him. He and Clary climbed in without even looking back. Hopping into my black Camry XLE, I sped down the highway, barely stopping until I reached the Institute, where I stayed. Once I saw it, I didn't even need to peel off the glamour. I was so used to the tall spires and grandeur. The inside was so hollow and empty, it made my stomach clench. I wasn't exactly used to being so lonely all the time.

I boarded the elevator that took me up to the main house. I missed Church waiting outside the elevator, and I sighed out loud. In my plain and clean room, I tossed my bag onto my bed and peeled off my stupid button down long sleeve uniform shirt. It was only 5. 3 more hours to kill. I threw myself onto the bed, gazing up at the ceiling like it held all the answers I needed. I held my palm above my face, staring at all the runes and scars that marked my skin. Countless reminders of past battles and memories. Runes didn't seem to be as strong now that everyone was gone, my life torn away from me.

Acting as a mundane was a sick excuse for my boredom. Sure, the occasional demon would turn up and give me a bit of a challenge, but once I destroyed it, I was back to doing nothing. It sucked. How could I stand the years to come, if I could hardly bare one year without my family, my fellow Nephilim? God, I'd even be glad to see Downworlders return.

Thinking everything over, I eventually drifted into a deep sleep.

In my dream, I first saw myself standing alone in my bedroom, dressed as I fell asleep; navy blue uniform slacks, my shirt taken off. I stand facing my door, and when I turn around, I find a body standing on the windowsill. It's the body of a young girl. She has her back to me and is dressed in a simply white dress. Her pale hands grip the frame of the window, her knuckles white. The wind blasts through the window, the girl's fiery red hair flying in the wind. I approach her and she slowly turns around. When she's facing me I gasp. The girl is Clary. Her green eyes are replaced by black, pupil-less eyes, burning a hole through me. Her mouth is open to reveal needle sharp teeth and two large incisors on each side of her mouth. And, enough for me to wake up screaming, I watch as black, leathery wings stretch out from her spine.

I woke up gasping for air, clutching at my bed sheets, drenched in my sweat. I calmed my breathing, reminding myself it was just a dream. I checked my cell phone. 7:45. _Crap_. I got up hastily, scrambling into the shower. I pulled on a gray shirt and jeans, shrugging on my black leather jacket. I grabbed my car keys and cell phone and dashed out the door. I reviewed the directions to her house, my heart beating rapidly throughout the whole drive.


	3. Ponophobia

**Ponophobia: Fear of Pain. **

_7:30_. I slammed my textbook shut and stuffed it back in my bag, retreating into the bathroom. I took a freezing cold shower, the way I like it. Wrapping a towel around myself, I blow dried my hair hastily, trying to tame it so that it would fall straight. Unsuccessful. Still, it fell in waves.

In my room, I pulled on a plain black tank top and jeans, when a knock came from the door. Rachel, my adoptive older sister, opened the door. Instantly, her expression was disgusted.

"You're not wearing _that_ to the party are you?" she asked in horror. I groaned.

"What else am I going to wear?!" She sighed in exasperation.

"Come with me," she commanded, leading me to her walk in closet. She examined some items and muttered to herself, putting them back on the racks. "Perfect!" she exclaimed, holding up something black. She threw it at me, followed by lacy white leggings. I obeyed, slipping on the leggings first, which ended right above my knee. The black dress was stylishly loose, with thin spaghetti straps that cris-crossed in the back. Rachel smiled triumphantly, then dragged me to her vanity. She tapped her lip in deep thought, then got to work on my eyes. When I finally opened them, I gasped. They were outlined with black dust, sparkles included, that made my green eyes and red hair pop out. Rachel then slipped an elastic headband with a white flower into my hair. "Totally vintage!" she squealed happily as I examined myself in the mirror. I looked pretty good. The dress ended halfway down my thighs.

"Dad would kill me if they were home," I mumbled, though I was grinning happily. Then, the doorbell rang. Rachel threw me a pair of black ballet flats, and then ran down the stairs. I followed quickly. Just as I reached her, Rachel threw the door open and standing there with his hands in his pockets was Jace. He looked up, his gold eyes gleaming like a lions.

"_You_ must be Jace!" Rachel greeted him. "I'm Rachel," she added.

"Nice to meet you. Ready to go?" he asked me. I nodded, smiling.

"Be safe!" Rachel called as we retreated down the walkway to Jace's car. I rolled my eyes as I got in the passenger seat. Jace closed the door and entered through the driver's side.

"Um, Clary?" he asked as we set off down the road.

"Yeah?" I asked, fiddling with a strand of my hair tensely.

"Never mind," he said. I glanced over at him, wondering why he sounded different somehow. He didn't look very different. He was smirking, one hand on the steering wheel. His knuckles were white. He looked over at me. "Something wrong?"

"No," I said with a chuckle. "I'm fine."

"Ready to party hard?" he asked, his smile growing bigger.

"I can't dance," I stated.

"Guess I'll have to make you," Jace mused, looking pleased at the thought.

"No, you won't."

"What makes you so certain, Ms. Fray?"

"You'll be too busy with Reese," I explained, like it was totally obvious. "You'll make _her_ dance, not me, and you two will spend the night together basking in your awesome-ness while I stand by the punch bowl and assume the I'm-too-cool-to-have-fun position," I told him bluntly, and added, "I'm good at reading people."

"I just met you, you can't read me that easily!" Jace defended, his eyes steely. "And you're wrong anyways."

"We'll see about that."

We had gotten to the house, and Jace parked alongside the curb. Glancing around, I noticed we weren't in the city anymore, more of a suburb type place with big rich houses. I exited the car and breathed in the cold, fresh air. Then, I followed Jace through the big gates of the house. Beyond the gates was a party of its own. People lounged in the grass, smoke curling from their noses, beer cans in their hands. There was music blasting from the open door of the house. Jace and I entered, greeted by a couple making out on the stairway steps. The air smelled of smoke and something really fruity, probably coming from the cups filled with a red liquid that everyone had. Suddenly, pale white arms wrapped around Jace's waist. He raised an eyebrow and turning around we found Reese. She left her hands on his waist, smiling hungrily.

"You came," she slurred, her voice thick. Then she turned to me and her smile seemed to falter. "And you brought Clary. How delightful." I smiled back in response. "Well anyways," she continued, looking up at Jace. "Now the fun has started. Come with me?" She asked, longing in her voice. I tried not to gag and pull her dyed blond hair out of their roots. Jace was smirking, something unreadable in his eyes.

"Sure," he responded, arching an eyebrow, "but Clary has to come too." Reese eyes narrowed and her mouth opened slightly in shock. I tried not to gasp and stifled a giggle. Reese backed away like she had been slapped.

"No deal," she said, crossing her arms.

"That's fine," Jace countered, shrugging, "this party's not very exciting anyway. Very overrated." I gasped now, my eyebrows raising, a small cackle escaping my mouth. Involuntarily, Jace grabbed the hand that wasn't covering my smirk, tugging me towards the door. I looked back at Reese. She was standing with her hands on her hips, glaring at our backs. I blew a kiss at her and she stomped off. Once we got outside, I burst out laughing, causing Jace to join in.

"You're crazy, you know that?" I asked him in between chuckles when we were both in the car.

"I know, I know. It's unbelievable!" Jace exclaimed. "I'm gorgeous, funny, attractive, mean, kind, _and_ crazy. There's no room for anything else, I think." I shook my head, laughing lightly.

"So where we headed?" I asked, watching the buildings pass by the window. Jace looked thoughtful for a while before he answered.

"You wanna go for a walk?" I could feel my face light up.

"That'd be fun." I sat in silence the rest of the way, until we got to Central Park. Jace and I set off down a trail, the moonlight bright above us.

"You do know she's going to hate me even more now, don't you?" I asked Jace, looking sideways at him.

"Ahh, I wasn't thinking about that," he said, wincing. "But guess what."

"Hmm?"

"You're supposed to guess, Clary."

"Hmm," I wondered, "you regret it?"

"No, that's not it."

"You're actually a robot from outer space?"

Jace turned to look at me with disbelief and amusement.

"No, that's not it either."

"Then what is it?" I asked in frustration

"You were wrong, like I said. I didn't leave you so I could bask in my obvious gorgeousness."

"Ohh!" I exclaimed. "You're right. But…."

"But? But what?" He asked curiously.

"I said awesome-ness not 'obvious gorgeousness,'" I pointed out.

"Oh, psh," Jace said, "I've got 'em both anyways." I rolled my eyes at him and chuckled. I shivered without thinking. "Are you cold?"

"Aren't you?" I responded. Something flickered in his eyes at my retort, but it faded just as quickly. He nonchalantly shrugged out of his leather jacket, placing it over my shoulders. I mumbled a thank you, slipping my arms through it. It was still warm from his heat.

"Hey, you wanna hang over at my place?" Jace asked, his expression neutral.

"Would your parents mind?" I asked, my heart faltering.

"Uhm," Jace said, his eyes pained, "their not home right now." I nodded.

"Just for a while."

"Of course."

The place Jace led us to was a big building with yellow CAUTION tape plastered over everything. Out on the sidewalk, my eyebrows furrowed.

"Are we in the right place?" I asked him.

"My parents don't like visitors, Girl Scouts, stuff like that," he said hastily. Judging by his tone, I decided to not ask anymore questions, even though the building didn't look very promising. When we got to the door, Jace pulled out a gold key. Inside, I started at the sight. It was a cathedral inside, a brass colored elevator in the corner.

"Jace-"

"Don't worry Clary," he said as he led me to the elevator. "This used to be a church. But they closed it down, and ah, my parents didn't want to leave it. They're very religious, you know?" I nodded suspiciously as we exited the elevator into a deserted hallway. "Let's go to the kitchen," he mumbled and led me into a nice looking kitchen. But it seemed empty, like nobody really used it. I walked over to the wide window and looked out at the lit city. Jace came and stood next to me, crossing his arms over his chest. "Clary?"

"Mhm?"

"You look really nice," he said with poise. I looked over at him to meet his eyes.

"Thank you?" I said, my voice uneven. Jace took a step closer, his eyes hard and his whole body tense.

"Clary," he said again. The sound of my name in his mouth made me heart skip a beat.

"What is it?" I asked, placing a hand on his arm. He exhaled in frustration.

"It's complicated," he said, turning away. "I just feel like… i've known you before. Like I need to get to know you and something about you just calls to me. I can't just leave you alone for a second. I-I-I don't know what I'm saying. I just know you're really important."

"Jace, you-you don't know what you're talking about," I said, though I felt the exact same way.

"Clary I've known you for a day and I already feel like we've got a connection." He turned to face me and his eyes were hungry while his expression was exasperated. Slowly, his hands reached out to lay on my shoulders. "I've never felt this way before." His hands on my skin was incredible. Like I had just been electrocuted, awakened by the feeling of his touch. And I instantly knew I need more. Just like him, I'd never felt this way before. Simon always hugged me, embraced me. I'd had a few boyfriends before, but none of them gave me this feeling, this hunger, this need. "I really want to kiss you," Jace whispered.

"Then kiss me," I whispered back. I closed my eyes and angled my head up to his. Cautiously, he met my lips with his, and I gave in, twining my hands around his neck as his arms encircled me. I immersed in this feel of his hands in my hair, his lips against mine, his body heat against mine. I could feel his heart beating rapidly, a match for my own.

And then I pulled away.


	4. Kakorrhaphiophobia

**Kakorrhaphiophobia: Fear of Failure or Defeat.  
**

"I can't do this," Clary declared, turning away. She crossed her arms, biting her lip, her eyes confused and apprehensive. I move so that I'm in front of her, wrapping my hands around her waist.

"Clary," I breathed, the sensation of her name in my mouth making my heart skip a beat, "Clay, what's wrong?"

"Jace, I hardly know you!" she proclaimed, but her eyes beg for more contact. "And you hardly know me." She extricated herself from my grip, striding toward the exit quickly. I followed her anxiously.

"Clary, stop. Just wait," I half-begged. I ran forward so that I was between her and the elevator now. "Clary, just let me explain something."

"There's nothing _to_ explain," she stated simply, looking down. She reached around me to pull the lever that opened the elevator. The metal shut with a clang, separating us. "I don't want to talk to you Jace." And with that, the elevator descended, leaving me there wordlessly. And all I could think about was how much I had wanted her to stay longer, to never leave me alone just like everyone else had.

************************************************************************

The next day, Thursday, came, and Clary and I hadn't talked since that night. I could hardly bear it. At lunch, I sat with Reese and the other prima donnas, all the while trying hard to stop glancing at Clary. The lowest number I reached? 104. Somehow, she planned it out so that whenever I got books from our locker, she wasn't there. And in class, she always took a seat in the front row, hardly ever making eye contact with me. Desire boiled inside of me, wanting, needing the way I had held her that night.

About a week later, I was hardly aware that I was dating Reese. I never recalled asking her out, people just started saying it, and I guess Reese made it happen. She was the one who always took control. Usually, in relationships, that was my job. But I hardly cared. My thoughts were all of Clary, though she barely seemed to notice me. Reese would kiss me, hold my hand. But I always caught myself comparing her to Clary. Then came that day…

"Ms. Gregory, may I be excused?" I asked, once the teacher acknowledged me. She nodded and I got out of my seat, exiting the room. I didn't think I could stand another minute listening to how the sudden deaths around the world were caused by a secret force from Russia. It was all just crap the mundanes used to reassure themselves. On my way to the bathroom, I caught a glimpse of red. A flicker of hope danced in my mind as I entered the hallway where Clary and I shared a locker.

"Forget a book?" I asked quietly from behind her. She jumped and dropped a few books, then bent to pick them up. I leaned against the row of lockers casually. She turned on me then, her green eyes ablaze.

"What do you want?" she asked impassively.

"I want to explain, Clary." I went right for it. "That's what I want. Well, one of the things I want."

"Well sorry, you can't buy 'explaining,'" she stated, shoving books in her locker.

"You don't need to buy everything," I reminded her.

"Can you just leave me alone?" I could sense a bit of longing in her tone.

"What's your problem Clary?"

"My problem," she started, whirling to face me with an agitated expression, "is that you're a liar, Jace Wayland."

"What did I lie about?" I asked incredulously.

"You told me all that crap about needing me, wanting me, me being important. And then you go and hook up with some girl that's so shallow and typical she doesn't even care about what's on the _inside_ of people!" I can tell she's controlling her anger, and her fists are clenched, her knuckles white.

"It's just an act, Clary," I said tiredly.

"Why do you need to act?!"

"Because I'm not normal!" I shot back. "You don't understand." Astoundingly, she stepped closer to me, clasping my hand in hers.

"So help me to."

"I thought you didn't want to," I murmured, looking away.

"I'm tired of trying to stay away from you Jace," she explained bluntly.

"I can't get you out of my mind," I confessed, a smile playing at my lips. In completely bad timing, the bell rang out loudly, causing Clary to jerk away, but with a smile. "See you later?" she asked, placing a book back in her locker. I nodded, heading off to retrieve my belongings from the History classroom. There, I met Reese who was waiting outside the room with her usual crowd.

"Jace!" she said when she saw me. I slung my bag over my shoulder and approached her.

"Yeah?" I asked, my tone bored.

"Where'd you go?" Reese asked, pressing herself against me and smoothing out my collar.

"Honestly, I meant to wash away the memories of you and I with soap and water in the bathroom, but then I got distracted by this girl, her name's Clary, you might know her. And her and I talked and I couldn't help but confess my undying longing for her and now we're married and have 2 kids. Also, I'd like to go and find her so that I can drive her home, so if you'd kindly retract your claws from my shirt, that'd be very nice of you." Reese looked as if I had slapped her. Or murdered her mom. Or peed on her new Gucci purse. But she looked pissed and furious and also, rejected. "See you around," I added, just as the dismissal bell rang, symbolizing my freedom.


	5. Autophobia

**Autophobia: Fear of Oneself.  
**

"You know what?" Jace asked on the ride to my house.

"Yeah?" I responded.

"I feel bad for Simon."

"No you don't."

"Yes, I do."

"Why? You don't like him, I can tell," I said simply. "Actually, you don't seem to like people in general." Jace shrugged, but his eyes held a reason that I couldn't read. I sighed. "So, you've got some explaining to do don't you?" Jace smiled a bit and nodded.

"And when do you plan on doing that?"

"Tomorrow, Saturday." We had reached my house now, and Jace pulled up to the curb.

"Pick me up at 7:30," I responded, getting out of the car and shutting the door. Inside, my house was nicely toasty.

"Clare bear?" my dad called from the kitchen.

"Yeah dad?" I asked. His hair was fussed up and bunches of papers and his laptop laid in front of him on the table.

"How was school?" he asked, wiping his glasses on his shirt.

"School was good."

"We're having pasta for dinner."

"Alright," I called, heading up the stairs. Music blasts from Rachel's room so I can tell she's exercising. In my room, I drop my bag at the foot of the bed and take off my blazer and kick off my flats. Weirdly, I'm exhausted, so curl up on the bed, hugging a pillow to my chest.

My dreams aren't dreams, but nightmares.

"_Clary," a voice whispers. "Clary, come find us." My eyes snap open. Where am I? I stand in front of a large gate that guards a city of some sort. The sky is pitch black, but light shines from inside the gates, from large glass like needles. I step forward and place a pale hand on the gates, trying to see what's beyond. Without warning, the gates swing open at my touch. The streets beyond are deserted. I walk forward onto the street. Buildings, houses surround me. The tall glass towers gleam brightly and something about them makes me want to run, while another part of me is being called forward. I roam the streets absently, searching for something familiar. I follow a road that twists and turns and find myself in a cobble-paved square ringed with tall, narrow buildings. At the center is a statue of an angel. At one point of the square are wide marble steps leading up to a large building with huge double doors with glass panes. I felt as if I knew this foreign place. _

_On the wide steps is someone I recognize. _

"_Jace!" I call out and instantly my eyes widened. My voice is different, sounds different. It's soft and lovely, yet filled with acid and danger. I slowly approach Jace and he looks up finally. Then I notice the difference in him. He's wearing all black, some kind of gear. His golden eyes are scorching and his skin seems to glow. He looks like an avenging angel. I approach him and his eyes widen in horror. _

"_Jace, Jace what's wrong?" I ask in my new voice, the voice of a predator. _

_And then it's as if I am watching myself talk to Jace from above. I see Jace, stepping back, as I step closer. I cry out like I was stabbed when I see my other self. I am not me. I wear a grand white dress, like from Victorian times. It fans around me, hugging me tightly at the top, and flowing at the bottom. My skin is a gleaming pale, and I look leaner, taller. My hair is fire atop my beautifully unhuman face and my smile is deadly, large incisors on each side of my mouth, my teeth sharp as daggers. My eyes make me clasp a hand over my mouth, a sob breaking free. My eyes are still green, yet my pupils are slits, like a cat's eyes, framed by thick black lashes. A gold crown lain with black stones gleams upon my head and adorning my back are wings about thirteen inches wide. They are leathery, black, and silver veins snare through them. On each top point, the point of a bone sticks out, like the wings of pterodactyl. _

"_Jace," the other me hisses out, stepping closer, backing Jace into the double doors. She's at the top of the steps now, smiling wickedly, _hungrily_. In a movement so sudden she's next to Jace, leaning in to whisper in his ear. "I'm starving, Jace. Kiss me."_

"_No," Jace whispers, his voice edged. She cackles a musical, threatening laugh that cuts the air like shards of glass. _

"_Why _not_?" she asks. _

"_You're not Clary," Jace says undoubtedly, fists clenching. _

"_Why of course I'm Clarrisa," she sneers. "I'm the real Clarrisa." I want to scream out that she's wrong, but I feel as if my throat is frozen. Jace is silent, and she reaches out and traces a sharp claw down his flawless cheek, leaving a trail of golden liquid behind. "Golden blood," she whispers. _

"_Get away from me," Jace begs, his eyes pained. _

"_I thought you wanted me Jace," she says, mocking rejection. _

"_You're a monster," Jace breathes out, panting now. He whips out a glass-like blade from his belt, pointing it at her. His hand trembles slightly and his eyes are golden depths of sorrow and fear. _

"_Jace," she whispers, her melodic voice laced with longing, "you won't hurt me." the blade presses at the base of her collarbone now, ripping through immaculate skin. Black liquid trails out, like poison, staining the material of the dress. Clary's smile just grows bigger, her teeth flashing in the light. Reaching out, she grabs the blade of the weapon in her hand, more poison flowing from the slashes. But it doesn't seem to hurt her. _

_In a second, the blade is snapped in half, and she is upon Jace, his screams of terror echoing in my mind. _

"No!" I screamed, snapping up in my bed. Rachel stands at the foot of my bed and I screamed out again, terrified. Then I chuckled lightly, gasping. "God, you scared me."

"_You _scared _me!_ You've been screaming bloody murder the whole night," she retorted, sitting on the bed.

"What time is it?" I asked.

"1 something. Mom and dad went to catch a movie," she explained, examining her finger nails.

"I'm going out with Jace at 7:30," I told her, wiping a hand over my eyes. Rachel squeals.

"Then we've got to go shopping. You're in desperate need of a new wardrobe, Clary dear," she responded, wiping a card out of her pocket and showing it to me. I roll my eyes and laugh. "Get dressed."

I do as told, and showered and pulled on clothes, meeting Rachel outside. She had already hailed a cab and she gives the directions to the cabby.

Hours later, at about 5, I began my complaining, my arms holding the weight of the shopping bags.

"Can we go now?" I whined. "You'll take an hour to get me dressed anyways."

"Hmm, you're right," Rachel said. She dragged the millions of clothes she had in her arms to the cashier, where she whipped out her magic card. After my shower, when I sat in Rachel's closet, she rummaged through all of the clothes she had bought. "Got it!" she exclaimed finally. She held up a silver blouse that went high up the chest, but all the cloth above the breast part was laced through with a pattern of flowers and vines, bearing slits of snowy skin. She matched it with black tight jeans and silver stilettos. Good thing I grew up with Rachel, or I wouldn't know how to walk in high heels. 7:00, I was fully dressed and sat in front of Rachel's vanity. She sat in front of me for what felt like eternity, brushing eye shadow and God knows what on my face. When I look in the mirror, I discover my eyelids are dusted with navy blue eye shadow and vague silver sparkles, the corners tinted black. Random strands of my hair are braided and studded with silver rhinestones. I groaned.

"I look like a Barbie doll," I grumbled.

"You're freaking hot, Clare." Rachel sighed. "I wish I had your hair."

"Have it."

"If only it were that easy," she said with a loud exhale, lounging on a plush red armchair. Then, the bell rang out. We both sat up straight to attention. Rachel looked over at me with a grin, getting up to go answer the door. I headed to my room, scrambling for my cell phone. I could hear my sister babbling downstairs. I groaned, searching under books, clothes, and finally found the device underneath my bed sheets. Stuffing the phone and 40 dollars into my back jeans pocket, I headed downstairs, hands in my tight pockets. Jace and Rachel sat on the couch in the living room, Rachel talking up a storm. Jace stood up when he saw me, light filling his golden eyes. I fought back a huge, goofy smile. Jace let his out, his white teeth gleaming.

"See you later Rach," I said, leading Jace out the door. Once we're outside, I slam the door shut and head off down the steps. But a grip on my arm holds me back. I turn to find Jace's arm gripping mine, keeping me in place. His eyes are bright and his smile is amused and cocky. He pulls me close to him.

"You look gorgeous Clary," he stated simply, then took my hand and led me down the stairway. "I thought we'd take a taxi this time, give my car a rest."

"That's fine." Expertly, I hailed a cab that we settled into. Jace gave the directions, then sat back. "Where are we going?"

"Hmm, you'll see," he replied mischievously. Absentmindedly, he twirled a strand of my hair between his fingers, the rhinestones catching the sunlight. "Did your hair in the salon, did you? Didn't think this date was _that_ special to you." I laughed, throwing my head back. I watched him as he twisted the thin braid through his lithe fingers. I laid my head back against the leather seat. He finally looked back at me, returning my hair. I felt as if I could stare into the gold of his eyes forever.

But that came to and end when the cab lurched forward into a stop so hard, Jace had to hold me to keep me from slamming into the plastic divider. Jace chuckled, paying the driver. Outside, I surveyed our surroundings and instantly a laugh bubbled out from my mouth. We were outside the gates of Monkeyland, a small amusement park uptown.

"Are you kidding me?" I asked as Jace took my hand, dragging me up to the entrance gate. At a booth, he handed the teenage boy two tickets. The gate opened, letting us through. I was still chuckling in disbelief.


	6. Epistemophobia

**Epistemophobia: Fear of Knowledge.  
**

"What, this isn't cool enough for you Ms. Fray?" I asked her as we walked through the colorful streets of the park.

"No, no. This is perfect," she said with a laugh, her green eyes dazzling. "Ooh, cotton candy." She smiled, pulling me after her. We ordered a purple cotton candy. I held it as she picked off pieces.

"What do you want to ride first?" I asked her through a sticky mouthful of purple fluff.

"Hmm," she mused, looking around, "Ferris wheel," she decided, her smile brightening. We headed over to the Ferris wheel where we boarded, Clary's eyes bright with excitement. God, she was beautiful. Her green eyes hypnotized me and I tried my hardest to keep my hands off of her. As the ride took off, wind blew on us, making Clary's hair whip out so that it looked like flames of fire. Clary shuddered. Automatically, I shrugged out of my jacket, placing it around her thin shoulders. Her eyes seemed to widen and she cocked an eyebrow and grabbed my arm.

"Jace," she said.

"What's wrong?" I asked anxiously. "Do I have a pimple on my arm or something?"

"No, no," she responded, shaking her head. Her smile had vanished. "What are all these marks?" she half-whispered. I tried not to gasp. She shouldn't be able to see the Runes. I had put a glamour on them… unless it wore off? Very unlikely.

"Mark?" I echoed.

"These," she said, tracing a spiraling black mark with the tip of her finger. "You just got these didn't you?" she asked, and now she took my other arm and traced the black ink, her eyes wandering to the ones along my collarbone. "What happened to you?"

"Clary, you see the marks?" I asked, astonished. _Impossible_.

"Of course I do," she retorted, looking up at me incredulously. "Why wouldn't I" I shook my head roughly.

"We've got to get out of here," I murmured.

"What?" Clary asked in disbelief. "Why? Jace what's wrong?" Finally, the ride came to a stop and I swiftly unbuckled us, taking her hand and practically dragging her down the street. All the while she repeated my name, asking what the hell was going on. We reached the exit gate and I pushed it open, hauling Clary to the sidewalk where I whistled for a cab. I practically shoved her in, slamming the door after me. She turned on me, her face furious. "What hell is going on Jace?" she asked, her tone edged. I tugged the collar of my shirt down.

"Do you see these Clary?" I demanded. "These marks?"

"Yes, I do! So what?!" she half-shouted.

"You're not supposed to!" I snapped.

"Well, it's kind of hard not to notice them," she said, rolling her eyes.

"They're supposed to be invisible," I answered, letting go of my shirt.

"Jace," she whispered softly. "What are you talking about?" I didn't answer. The cab pulled to a stop. I threw a bill at him, then helped Clary out. We were in front of the Institute now. I turned towards Clary. Her eyes were wide. "Where are we?"

"My house, the one you came to earlier. Don't recognize it, do you?" I retorted. "What do you see?"

"It's beautiful," is all she said. "What the hell kind of trick is this?!" she demanded, turning to face me. I rolled my eyes and led her to the front door.

"Put your hand on the door." She did so hesitantly. "Now repeat after me," I commanded. She nodded. "I am Clary Fray, one of the Nephilim, and I ask entrance to this holy place." Her eyes narrowed but she repeated it.

"I am Clary Fray, one of the Nephi-" the door swung open, a gust of cold air blowing out. Her eyes widened even more, her jaw dropping. I took her hand and pulled her inside. When we reached the housing part of the Institute, she let go of my hand. I turned around to find her standing with her arms crossed. "Tell me what's going on, Jace." Her tone was sharp.

"Just follow me, please," I pleaded, opening the door to my room. She raised an eyebrow.

"Why should I trust you?"

"Because you're one of my kind," I shot at her impatiently. Her eyes narrowed even more, but she stomped into the room.

"Now what do you want?" she asked tartly.

"Sit down," I offered, gesturing to the bed. She stayed where she was. "Fine!" I grumbled, sitting on the bed. I stretched out on my back, hands behind my head. "Clary, have you ever heard of the Nephilim?" I asked carefully.

"Some people believe they were giants, created by God. Some crap like that," she answered.

"They're wrong. And it's not crap. Nephilim are real," I started off. "We are a hybrid race created by the Angel Raziel, who mixed his blood with a human's in the Mortal Cup. Whoever drank from the cup became a Shadowhunter, also known as Nephilim, and their descendants also became Nephilim. The Shadowhunters hunt demons that come from different dimensions. We are the protectors of the Earth. These marks on my skin? They're runes. They gives us strength, bravery, much more. Each rune symbolizes something and possesses power."

"That's bull!" Clary shouts. I snap up, my fists clenching.

"Is not," I retorted, "we shadowhunters also use something called _glamour_, maybe you've read about it in a fantasy. Glamour is what covers our appearance from normal humans when we don't want to be seen. Glamour is what you saw the other day, the caution tape and the broken in windows. And today, you saw through the glamour, and that can only mean one thing Clary." She took a step back, her clenched hands trembling slightly.

"You're joking. None of that is real," she stuttered. "It's impossible."

"Is it?" I asked, whipping a pocket knife from the drawer beside my bed. Clary's eyes widened. I swiftly slashed it lightly against my palm. "Watch Clary," I told her as I took out my stele. She raised an eyebrow at the object. I pressed the point to my palm, drawing an _iratze_. Instantly, the wound started to close up, leaving just a faint scar behind. Clary gasped, backing up with a hand to her mouth. I instantly regretted everything. I didn't want to scare her. I approached her cautiously. "Clary, there's no reason to be scared," I said softly. She shook her head and returned her hand to her side.

"I'm not scared," she murmured. "So, what, now you're going to tell me something like Harry Potter's real? Is Hermione Granger your girlfriend?" I could tell she was only joking to cover up the main facts. I shook my head.

"No," I answered. "But there are Downworlders. Warlocs, Fairies, Vampires, and Werewolves."

"Vampires?" she echoed weakly. I nodded.

Clary fainted.


	7. Isolophobia

**Isolophobia: Fear of Being Alone.  
**

"Claaary, wake uppppp, I'm getting borrrrred," I repeated over and over again. It was practically a song by now. I had laid her on the bed after she fainted and laid myself beside her, trying to wake her up for about 20 minutes. I closed my eyes tiredly. "Claaaaaary, wake uppp," I groaned. "I'm going to fall asleeee-"

My complaining was interrupted by an amusing idea. To do or not to do? Smartly, I decided. I rolled over onto my side. "Rise and shine Sleeping Beauty," I whispered into her ear. Slowly, I raised myself onto my elbows, so that I hovered above her. Attentively, I lowered my head, touching my lips softly to hers. "Clary wake up," I whispered against her lips. Still, no response. "Will you wake up now?" I murmured as I pressed my lips to her temple. "How about now," – my lips traced her cheek- "You'll wake up…_now_," – my lips slid along her jaw- "Hmm, or now?" – my lips skim along beneath her jaw, - "_Or freaking now_," I whispered, the cold skin covering her collarbone underneath my lips. A tinkling laugh rang out, her cold breath blowing into my hair. I raised my eyes to her. "_Finally!_" I exclaimed with a smile. Her cheeks were flushed. "I was beginning to think you were dead." She sat up slowly.

"Hmm, you're kissing brought me back to life, I think," she responded, stretching her arms over her head.

"Yes, I do have that effect on girls. Some boys, too, I'd say," I wondered aloud. She rolled her eyes. But instantly, she became serious again.

"Maybe I shouldn't have woken up," she pondered. "Then you wouldn't have stopped."

"Why do you think I woke you up?" I asked, leaning in. She smiled and we were so close, I was surprised I couldn't feel the smile on my lips.

"Are all Shadowhunters this appealing?" she asked, her eyes boring into mine. "Or is it just you?"

"Oh, they're appealing, sure," I said with a light chuckle. "But I'm appealing times 100." Clary grinned, and this time, she pressed her mouth to mine, kissing me softly, carefully. She twisted her arms around my neck, her fingers threading through my hair. My arms encircled her waist, tracing along her spine, her shoulder blades. I could feel the heat of her burning through her clothes, and somehow, the leather jacket turned up on the floor. Her hands came up to my face, tracing every feature, memorizing every aspect. Halfheartedly, I broke away, both of us gasping for air. I chuckled darkly.

"Had practice, Clarrisa?" I breathed out. She swatted me playfully, pushing against my chest so she could sit up.

"I'm hungry," she declared. Then her expression twisted so that it looked like she hadn't meant to say that aloud. I chuckled, pulling her up and leading her to the kitchen. She took a seat while I scoured the refrigerator and pantry. I took out assortments of food, lining them up on the marble counter. Clary's laugh tinkled through the air. "I'm not _that _hungry," she said, eyeing the food on the counter.

"Yeah, but I am," I told her, taking a can of whip cream out of the fridge. I brought all the food to the table: Coco Puffs, Oreos, a tub of strawberry ice cream, leftover macaroni & cheese, fruit roll ups, the can of whip cream, and a carton of juice with two plastic cups. Clary poured the red juice and handed me a cup. Then she took a spoon, digging into the ice cream tub. I watched as she devoured most of the ice cream, 5 Oreos, and 2 fruit roll ups.

"For such a small thing, you sure do eat a lot," I told Clary as she took a gulp of her drink. She choked on the liquid, laughing.

"You're ridiculous," she advised me. I shrugged, spraying the can of whip cream into my mouth.

"What time is it?" I asked through a mouth full of cream. Clary took her cell phone out of her pocket.

"9:30," she declared. She pushed away from the table and stood up. "I should probably get going," she mumbled, brushing her bangs out of her face. I stood up as well.

"Wait," I said, "I've got to tell you something first." She smiled brightly, her green eyes sparking. I smiled back, taking her hand and leading her up to the roof.

The greenhouse was filled with moonlight, the colors of the unusual plants illuminated. I heard Clary gasp from beside me. She reached out, stroking the petals of the flowers.

"What is all this?" She asked incredulously, her face full of excitement. I laughed, shaking my head.

"Well, they're plants, obviously," I replied, my voice dripping sarcasm. She rolled her eyes at me. _Those impossibly, green eyes_.

"I've never seen anything like them," she told me simply. "Does your mother garden? Or your dad?" A sharp pain erupted in my chest at the mention of parents. It easily faded and I composed my features. I lead her over to the edge of the roof, so that we were looking down on the streets and buildings.

"Actually, that's what I wanted to tell you about," I stated, laying my hands on the cement before me.

"Go ahead," Clary urged me softly. I sighed and began.

"You see, Clary, the reason I'm really surprised you can see through my glamour," I started off, "is because we may just be the only two Shadowhunters left in this world." She looked confused and astonished.

"B-but how could that be?" she asked shakily.

"I don't know. I wish I knew, but I don't," I explained hastily, anger and loss creeping into my voice. "I don't."


	8. Decidophobia

**Decidophobia - the fear of making decisions. **

**A/N: Sorry for the wait guys. I've been sort of busy lately. Also, I'd just like to remind you all that Cassandra Clare owns Jace, Simon, Clary and all that super cool Nephilim, Mortal Instrument stuff :D **

**This chapter's some Jace & Clary-ness, hehe. Trust me, adventures coming up ;)**

"You're parents," I asked Jace, "did they live here with you?" Jace eyes hardened as I mentioned them, his hands gripping the balcony so hard, his knuckles turned white.

"No," he answered roughly, "my biological parents were killed before I was born. By a man named Valentine. I just found out recently, actually. Valentine raised me, calling himself Michael Wayland and I believed he was my real father. He faked his death when I was 10, and the Lightwoods adopted me. Maryse and Robert were my adoptive parents. They had three kids, Max, Isabelle, and Alec." He seemed to choke when he mentioned the Lightwoods, and I hesitantly placed a hand on top of his. "Clary," he sighed, "where you ever, _ever_ a Shadowhunter before? Before you answer let me explain. You, the only Shadowhunter I've seen in a year, you might be the start of the return… the return of our people…" I shake my head.

"All human," I joked uneasily. "Well, _was_ all human…?" Jace groaned, tearing his hand out from under mine and rubbing it over his eyes tiredly.

"I don't understand any of this," Jace said with a frustrated breath. "_Where did they go?_" He looked so angry, blazing, that I was afraid to even touch him.

"We'll figure it out, Jace," I whispered, half trying to convince myself. "There's many possibilities. Uh- maybe God wants to give you a challenge? Ah, maybe it's up to you to save them. Er- up to us?" I babbled, feeling foolish. Jace went rigid.

"Clary," he said, "you just might be right." I shook my head and chuckled darkly.

"Probably not. I've just got a big imagination…" Now was Jace's turn to shake his head.

"We've got to go to Idris. There must be some type of clue there."

"Idris? Is that some kind of foreign country?" I inquired curiously.

"It's the home of all Shadowhunters actually," he answered.

"Oh," I responded, still not really understanding. "But I've never heard of it. Where is it?"

"You've never heard of it because to mundanes, it doesn't exist. It's glamoured, in between Europe and America. You'd love it there. Not so much that it's empty now…" I placed my hand on his shoulder until he turned to me.

"We'll figure it out," I tried to assure him. "I trust you Jace. And I want to help you. To help _us_. So even though it sounds risky and whatnot, I'll come with you to Idris." Jace's face changed from pained to thankful, his golden eyes bright and breathtaking. Jace's arms twined around my waist. He leaned down to kiss me. But I cut him off, "On one condition," I added, my hands on his warm, lean chest.

Jace smiled, cocking an eyebrow.

"What would that be?" He asked me, his cold minty breath blowing into my face. I closed my eyes for a moment before answering.

"Simon comes with." Jace immediately stepped back, his face an expression of pure astonishment.

"What? Clary, no. He can't. What in the world are you thinking?" Jace blurted out, his hands flailing around in the air for emphasis.

"Why not?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest. "It's just one more person."

"Clary, he's a _mundane_," he replied with a roll of his eyes.

"Jace, I was a mundane _yesterday_," I half shouted at him. His fists clenched tightly as he stared me down.

"You're different and you know it. We can't take him," he stated simply, his tone final.

"Then I guess you're going alone," I shot back stubbornly, even though the thought of him leaving me shot needles into my heart.

"You're coming with me, and _only_ you Clary," Jace answered, his eyes a golden fire. _Crap_, I thought. _He's really serious_. Time for Plan B. I stepped forward until I stood in front of Jace, about half a foot away. Our eyes never broke apart. I stepped closer and twisted my arms around his neck.

"Please Jace?" I asked bashfully. He crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes and body tense.

"No," he stated, his bold tone wavering just a tiny bit. Guess I had to boost the plan up a bit.

"Why not?" I asked, faking a pout while my fingers laced themselves in his silky hair.

"Mundane," was all he could say. When I leaned my head forward, Jace closed his pained eyes. My lips were just inches away from his.

"Please Jace?" I whispered. When he didn't respond I moved my hands to his neck, where my fingers traced shapes on his collarbone. Now his arms coiling his arms around my waist, his eyes still closed. He leaned his head toward mine, but when our lips were at least a centimeter away, I halfheartedly placed a finger in between them.

I leaned my head back to look at him. His eyes were confused and hungry.

"Not until you say yes," I told him coyly. Jace threw his head back with a groan, but didn't let me go.

"You're unbelievable," he said through gritted teeth.

"Jace, he won't be any trouble," I promised. The anger in his eyes dissolved slightly. He muttered something under his breath that sounded like, 'Christ, I wanna kiss her'.

"Fine," he finally said, "but By the Angel, Clary, if he makes one wrong move, I'm sending him right back here." I gave into a huge grin, sliding my fingertip down his cheek and placing both hands on his prominent cheekbones.

"Thank you," I told him graciously. He tightened his hold on my waist.

"Yeah, yeah whatever," he said with a roll of his eyes, "Can I just kiss you now?" he asked, tracing his fingertip up and down my spine. I held back a shiver and connected my lips to his in response. Jace kissed me gently and I kissed him back, gripping his arms. My head was dizzy and my heart pounded so hard, I bet Jace could feel it. Then, I pushed against his chest so that he pulled his head back. I narrowed my eyes at him

"But don't you treat Simon li-" but I couldn't finish my sentence, because Jace had grabbed my face between his hands, forcing his lips to mine. I surrendered, combing my fingers through his hair and angling my head for better access. I was sandwiched between the concrete wall and Jace now, and when we broke away, we were both panting. Jace's eyes were bright and blazing and his smile was so dazzling, I could've kissed him again. "I should probably get going," I told him, turning my head away. He nodded his head, unwinding his hands from my hair and taking my hand. He led me off the roof, down into the house. Once in the elevator I broke the silence. "When do we have to leave?" I asked him. He pondered the thought for a while.

"Friday night. After the Halloween Dance." I only nodded, staring forward.


	9. Monophobia

**Monophobia – the fear of being abandoned. **

"So, what are you dressing up as on Friday?" I asked Clary as we walked up the front steps of her house.

"Actually," she started, "it's mandatory that each student picks a paper randomly, and whatever character you get, you have to dress up as." We stopped in front of the door, facing each other. Clary leaned against the door as I stood before her.

"I never really go to those dances," she confessed, avoiding my gaze. I leaned forward, my arms on each side of her head so that she would look at me.

"Well that's no fun," I objected. Her green eyes gleamed with delight and I could see my reflection in her pupils.

"Well, if you pick something ridiculous, like say, Spongebob? Then maybe I'll go," she told me, laying a hand on my shoulder. I could feel my smile grow.

"I don't care what either of us picks, I'm taking you with me," I responded impishly.

"Or else?"

"I'm a Shadowhunter. You don't wanna hear the 'or else'." Clary laughed at that, and I beamed, leaning down to kiss her. Her hands came up and twisted into my hair. I held her close to me, my arms tight around her waist while excitement and bliss coursed through my veins. Too early for me, she broke away, opening the door behind her.

"See you tomorrow." She told me, the dreamy intensity of our kiss lingering in her eyes. I nodded, running a hand through my hair.

"'Night Clary." I waited until she closed the door to walk back to the street, where I hailed a cab.

That was the second night I dreamt about Clary.

_In my dream, I stood in front of Clary's house. She slipped out the door and shut it tight behind her. Her red hair was bright, like a fire, and her green eyes were so intense, I stepped closer to her. She wore Shadowhunter gear, and black runes swirled along her arms and neck. But she looked frightened, worried. Sure enough she whispered, _

"_Jace, I'm scared." I reached out and touched her cheek tenderly. And once our skin made contact, I back pedaled. Her skin was boiling hot, like she was diseased, and from the touch of my hand, the runes along her body blazed to life, no longer an inky black, but a scorching orange red. I shouted her name in terror, but the fire didn't seem to faze her. _

_I watched in horror, as the stubborn, sarcastic, beautiful Clary, _my_ Clary, transformed into a monster. _

_Into a demon. _

~*~*~*~

[ Clary's POV]

"Simon!" I called after him breathlessly, running to catch up. We reached the stone steps leading up to the school now. It was Monday, the worst day of the week.

"Hey Fray," he greeted me blankly.

"What's wrong?" I asked, pulling my hair back into a loose knot.

"You tell me," he muttered, pulling open the door and letting me in first. I followed as he headed to his locker.

"Look," I said, leaning against the locker beside his, "I'm sorry I've been ignoring you a bit lately. There's been a lot going on-"

"What, like hooking up with Jace?" Simon asked venomously. I blinked, surprised at his anger… and jealousy?

"No!" I objected, my cheeks blushing furiously. "You don't know the situation, so don't you go on assuming!"

"Fine, Clary," he said with a big sigh, facing me tiredly. "Explain."

"I swear, Simon if you tell, I'm going to pummel you," I warned him in a quiet voice, so no one would here us. "Ok, so Jace is this sort of… Shadowhunter guy? Shadowhunter are Nephilim, this race that was created from an angel and a human, and they were made to destroy all demons. I know what you're going to say, that it's impossible. Well, it's not. I believe him, I trust him… And I just figured out that, I'm also a Shadowhunter… I was adopted," I explained in a hurried rush. "_But_ all Shadowhunters and Vampires, Werewolves, Warlocs, and Faeries have been wiped out by something and we don't know what. We've got to go to the Shadowhunter capital to figure it out, to bring them back to Earth. The capital is this place called Idris. We're leaving Friday night…" Simon didn't say anything, just stared at me in shock. "And I want you come with us….?" He seemed to come back to consciousness, and to my surprise, he looked excited.

"This is just like a video game!" he exploded.

"What the…?" I started to say, then shook my head. "So you _believe _me?!"

"Of course I do! You wouldn't bring my hopes up and then let me down," he told me. I nodded proudly.

"So you don't mind coming with me?" I asked hesitantly.

"Of course not! My family will freak, but I'm not going to miss out on this adventure," he babbled, clearly pumped. I laughed.

"Thanks, Simon. You're the best," I praised him, wrapping an arm around his waist as we headed to my locker.

"Tch, tell me something I don't know." I laughed, opening my locker and stuffing books into my bag, silently wondering where Jace was. Class was a bore, and Jace still wasn't there. I tried to hide my disappointment throughout the day, quite unsuccessfully. I couldn't help but wonder why he was absent today. I hadn't talked to him since Saturday, after he escorted me home. Was he sick? I tried to push back the question that asked if he had left to Idris without me.

He wouldn't do that. Would he?

Then, a realization hit me and I tried my best not to ditch school and look for him myself. What if, he had disappeared now, just like the other Shadowhunters?

That couldn't happen. He and I were left alone, to help the Nephilim and Downworlders. God wouldn't take him. Did something else take him? A demon?

I went through the whole day, worrying about Jace. I wasn't even relieved as usual when the school bell signified the end of the day. I just rushed out to the stone steps, Simon trailing behind me. I dialed Jace's cell number frantically, clutching the phone to my ear.

Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring… No answer. Not even a voicemail. Just ringing, and finally, silence. I sighed, and redialed desperately. _How pathetic,_ a voice in my mind hissed. I ignored it. The ringing continued. I sighed and threw my phone into my school bag, stomping down the steps and down the sidewalk, Simon walking silently a few steps behind. We reached his house now.

"When do we leave?" he asked me, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He seemed like he didn't want to look at me, for some odd reason.

"Friday night," I replied blankly, "after the dance." Simon just nodded and entered his house, without even a good bye. I didn't even have room in my mind to process Simon's actions. I just hurried home, silently debating whether I should go over to Jace's and check up on him.

I decided I'd seem too obsessed, so I just headed home, my eyes focused on the concrete beneath my feet.


	10. Daemonophobia vs Theophobia

**A/N:**

**I watched Van Helsing last night on FX, and gee, screw the Volturi, they don't have wings. Vampires in Van Helsing scare me to death. They don't even look like vampires, they looked like scary naked demon thingies. Anyways, that movies just so amazing, love the whole vampire versus werewolf thing. AND TO MAKE ME EVEN HAPPIER, they showed Underworld Evolution right after! Ah, vampire movies just make me excited. **

**+ Oh, and Transformers 2 pwns all movies (YES INCLUDING TWILIGHT YOU CRAZY FANGIRLS). It's so awesome, I loved it. **

**^ Just thought i'd share all that with you :) **

**BTW, I have this super crazy urge to just blow all your fantasy induced minds with this chapter. **

**So enjoy. **

**Daemonophobia- Fear of demons. Theophobia- Fear of angels. **

I couldn't wake up. It was the weirdest sensation. I knew I was alive, but I was trapped in an endless sleep, like my eyes were glued shut and my body was strapped to the bed. I casted my mind back to Sunday morning, the first time I experienced this sensation. I had tried to wake myself up from that _second_ horrible dream about Clary. I tried to scream and I tried to open my eyes, but my body wouldn't let me. Instead, a dark drowsiness over took me, and I slept the day away.

I couldn't tell what time it was now. Most likely Monday morning. Again, I tried to snap my eyes open, but instead, another dream was hurled at me, like a vision.

In this one, I was watching the scene from above. I saw myself lying on a vast expansion of green grass, some spots stained with blood. Looking closer, I gasped when I saw that my eyes were open lifelessly, a dagger sticking gruesomely out of my chest. I cast my eyes around the valley frantically, searching for someone to help, to at least remove the blade from my body.

But then, a blindingly bright beam of light shot from the sky, and in the beam stood Clary. I winced, expecting her to appear like I usually saw her in my dreams: a devilish monster. But this Clary was different. She had on a simple white gown, and wings did sprout from her spine, but they were not leathery demon wings. They were white, immaculate. Her face was angelic, beautiful, and sympathetic. She kneeled beside my dead body, laying her hand on my torn shoulder. She opened her mouth, and a beautiful song poured out, filling the air and drowning me in the sound. At the sound of the song, another scene appeared before me. I could still hear the faint enchanting song from a distance. The scene before me was of a very muscular man, standing before an operating table. On the table was an unconscious woman, and by the size of her belly, I could tell she was pregnant, due any day now. The woman had bright, fiery red hair and I instantly recognized the similar features. She had to be Clary's mother. She was clearly put into a deep sleep.

Taking a closer look to the man standing over her, I gasped in shock. _Valentine._ His eyes were hungry, excited, and he was fiddling with instruments on the table beside the woman. There were two tall bottles of liquid. One was filled with a golden, sparkling liquid. The other held a black substance, smoke emanating from the open top of the bottle. There were also two needles, the ones doctors and nurses used to shoot medicine into patients. I watched intensely as Valentine filled one needle with the golden liquid, and one with the black poisonous liquid. Slowly, he brought the needle to the red haired woman's stomach. Her eyes were closed still, and she looked so peaceful. Her shirt was open to reveal her bulging stomach. Valentine pressed the needle to a certain point of the stomach, and plunged it into the flesh, golden liquid oozing into the woman. I tried to yell out, to make a move to help her, to stop him. I couldn't.

I watched horrifically as he now picked up the needle filled with the black liquid. He held it to the same spot, which was now blazing red, like it was burned. With a push of his finger, the black fluid was being shot into her, gold and black now mingling with red. For a moment the woman stayed in her peaceful position.

Then, she revealed the most terrifying eyes I had ever seen. They were black, no whites, no irises. Just fully black. Her face was arranged into a mask of pain and anguish, but she didn't scream and she didn't thrash around. She seemed to give up, her eyes shutting and her expression softening. But her mouth opened, and blood poured out of her mouth endlessly.

Another scene was thrown at me again.

I recognized Valentine once again. He was standing in a dark, dungeon type room. Before him on the floor were two crumpled humps. An angel, and a demon.

"Rise!" Valentine barked at the two figures. Slowly, they arose. They were both chained by their feet. The angel was beautiful, but his face was tortured, and he had slashes along his body, most likely from a whip. His golden hair was disarray, and his eyes were helpless, sad. The demon was beautiful as well. It was a woman, in a black gown. She had pale skin and –just like Clary's mother- fully black eyes, like pits of charcoal. She didn't look tortured, or scared. Only impassive.

Valentine stepped forward to the angel, and shackled his hands, which he also then did to the woman. Producing a needle, he plunged it into her pale neck. She cried out, and I cringed at the sound. Her voice was sharp, cutting, and shrill. Valentine shoved her down, a heap on the floor, while he emptied the liquid in a glass container. I couldn't watch as he did the same procedure to the angel. It turned my head away, wanting so much to wake up.

I didn't even know it when the scene changed. I focused when I heard voiced shouting. Valentine and Clary's mother were facing each other. She was no longer pregnant. They both wore expressions of outright rage.

"Jocelyn, calm down!" Valentine shouted. "You are being ridiculous!"

"_How could you?_" Jocelyn hissed at him, her green eyes menacing.

"I DID NOTHING WRONG," Valentine roared.

"DID NOTHING WRONG!?" Jocelyn echoed venomously. "YOU TURNED HER INTO A _MONSTER_!"

"She is _NO_ monster!" Valentine thundered. "I created her to help us, to save the Nephilim race, Jocelyn. Do you not understand that?!"

"Who said we need saving, Valentine?!" Jocelyn shrieked.

"You know we do. You know it," Valentine said in a voice so deadly, I winced. "Our daughter will be a legend, a savior to the whole world."

"She's a demon," Jocelyn whispered in horror, her eyes filling with tears. "What did you do?" She cried, pleading.

Then, it all fell into place.

I reviewed the scenes I saw. The demon blood, the angel blood. The needles. The dreams. Everything. Clary wasn't just a Shadowhunter. She was a hybrid, an abomination. A demon with angel blood. Impossible.

I didn't want to wake up anymore.


	11. Philaphobia

**Philaphobia - fear if falling in love or being in love. **

After my shocking epiphany, I believe I dozed off. When my eyes surprisingly opened easily, I judged from the light seeping in through my windows that it was late afternoon. I just stared at the ceiling for what felt like hours.

It couldn't be true. Could it? No one as sweet and innocent as Clary could be a… I could bring myself to say, or even think the word. I was afraid that if I thought the word or said the word enough times, I'd start to believe it was all true.

But it couldn't be. Clary was a Shadowhunter and nothing more. It was not possible to graft angel _and_ demon blood together. Impractical. I had more angel blood that usual Nephilim, I had learned that only last year. Valentine's first son, his _real_ son had demon blood.

But no, no one could have both.

And, if it was true and Clary did have… _demon_… blood, why hadn't she noticed it? Something so strong couldn't have escaped her attention. Unless she was hiding something?

I shook my head at the thought, not wanting to think of Clary as my enemy. I would have felt it, sensed something about her that screamed for me to run away. Maybe, just maybe, the demon part of her wasn't as dominant. I mused over the theory of Clary being too kind, too holy that the angel in her overtook the monster within.

But I knew that was not possible. Valentine had shot in an even amount, and demon blood was easily as strong as angel blood, especially when coming from a demon as powerful and infamous as the one he had caught, the Lady of the Grave. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't stay away from her. I figured that out on my own. Then, I noticed something.

Clary and I were the only "Nephilim" left in the world. Was that a sign? A signal that one of us was meant to be the savior of all Nephilim and Downworlders? It was the most possible theory. Like in mundane movies, were we supposed to fight to the death, and the winner could have any wish possible? Was that why I had been left on this forsaken planet?

And if that was the case, why was God punishing me like this? I'd have to choose between the love of my life, and the lives of my fellow brothers and sisters. If the case was this: Clary and I battle to the death. If she wins, she chooses whatever thought is most appealing to her and it becomes reality. The demon in her could choose to kill of all Nephilim and such. The angel in her could choose to free them. Or, she could choose to wash away one side of her, either the demon or the angel. If I won, I could choose to save all Nephilim and Downworlders, I'd be the hero of all Shadowhunter history. Or, I could choose to save Clary's soul, to cleanse her, free her of the demonic venom that rang through her veins. I'd have to kill her then, in order to make that wish.

Already, I was devising a plan. It wasn't that incredible, but it was the only choice. Clary would have to die, in order for me to save her, to rid the monster that she was born as. Then, her and I together would find the Mortal Instruments, and summon the Angel Raziel, and our favor of him would be to save the Nephilim, and return them to their home.

The biggest and major flaw was how Clary would die.

I couldn't kill her. No matter how much I thought of how terrible it would be for the sake of the Nephilim, I couldn't find the thought of me killing Clary. Even as I reviewed my nightmares, the images of her striking at me, tearing at me, surrendering to the evil inside of her, _as I really thought of her as a demon_, I could not bring myself to even think of killing Clarrisa Fray.

I stretched my arms over my head, noticing just how tense and sore my muscles were, and sat up, just as a shrill ring cut through the tangible silence of my room. I looked over to my bedside table. My cell phone was ringing. Reaching, forward, I noticed the caller ID. The familiar number flashed across the small screen. The phrase, _Speak of the Devil_ shot through my mind. I dropped the phone, shoving it under my pillow to muffle the ringing. It didn't work. It haunted me as I went about, changing into a pair of jeans and a black shirt. Clary was probably worried. The phone kept ringing, on and on. She never did give up.

What would I say to her? Should I tell her about my discovery? Would she even believe me?

Did she already know?

Tuesday, I still didn't go to school. I was afraid of how I'd react when I saw Clary. Would I cringe, backing away? Or would I embrace her and tell her it'd all be alright, and that I'd always love her no matter what. I really hoped for the second one.

Because that's what I really felt, I knew it deep down. My phone rang every hour, in between classes, no doubt. She even sent me a few text. One read, _parents out of town for family reunion. Come over tonight?_ She really was worried. I felt bad. I even came close to answering a call once. But I didn't. And I never turned off my phone. It made me feel slightly good inside, that she cared for me so much.

Once I got out of bed, I showered and changed into jeans and a black t shirt. I ate breakfast lazily, not even noticing when I finished the bowl. I did some cleaning, not sure what to do with my free time. After lunch, after the millionth unanswered phone call from Clary, I went to the weapons room, deciding to prepare for our adventure to Idris. Even though it might be a different situation now, we still needed to go, right? I wasn't sure, but I had told Clary we were going already.

So here was my "brilliant" plan:

Me, Clary, -and Simon, ugh- would leave for Idris after the Halloween dance, Friday night. In Idris, I would have to find a way for Clary to… die. I dreaded that thought, but then I would have to push myself to remember the result of her death. When she was… dead… my wish would be to save all Nephilim, including her. Would that count as two wishes? No, I didn't think so.

It would have to work. It was the only freaking thing I could come up with. If _I_ died, who knew what Clary would wish for? Maybe the demon in her was just waiting for that moment, the perfect time to redeem itself. I couldn't let that happen.

In a big duffel bag, I piled two seraph blades, a bow and arrows, one long sword, and a dagger. Simon could carry the supplies, I thought with a smile. I set the bag on the counter in the kitchen, then made my way into Isabelle's room. I still kept all the rooms intact. Trust me, it wasn't very pleasant, especially finding things I would never want to find in Maryse's bedroom, if you catch my drift.

It made me feel way protective, especially finding some of those same things in Isabelle's room. I never thought of her as my _adoptive_ sister. She was just, a sister. So finding certain items had made me want to barf and beat up whichever guy she ever felt something toward. When I entered her room, I immediately went to the closet, pulling out her old Shadowhunter gear from when she was a few years younger. Hopefully, they'd fit Clary. When I came across her trademark gold whip, I fought back tears.

I brought the clothes and boots to my room, folding them and placing them neatly on top of my dresser. My phone was ringing nonstop now that school was over. I read one of my five new texts, the most recent one. _Jace_, it read, _I'm sorry if I did something wrong. What's your problem?_ I sighed and deleted my inbox, including the unread messages.

I laid on my bed, half wanting to sleep forever, and half wanting Clary in my arms. I thought I heard something… a clatter. I ignored it, willing myself to fall asleep. But then I heard it again, the same metal clatter. Then I remembered; the elevator. I sat up ram rod straight, my eyes narrowing. I slowly got up off my bed and opened my door. Cautiously I stepped out into the hallway to face what I least expected.


	12. Panophobia

**A/N: sorry, these past chapters have been real short ): **

**ALSO, I'd like to thank all of you for you're awesome reviews. They're so supportive, I wouldn't be continuing this story without them. **

**To answer SOME of your questions without ruining the future of the story, Jace's past life is basically the same, just minus Clary. He was raised by Valentine, then adopted by the Lightwoods, and in 2009 a surprise attack was made by Valentine, and after Valentine died, Jace was told about his real parents & whatnot. **

**As for Clary, after Jocelyn gave birth to her, she fled, away from Valentine and hid Clary where she thought he'd look for least. And when Valentine found Jocelyn, he killed her. He kept Clary a secret from everyone. **

**Which is pretty ironic, coming from me, because I sort of had this feeling reading Mortal Instruments that he's still completely in love with her and all. Also, nothing really **_**killed **_**Nephilim and Downworlders off. They SOMEHOW vanished, and my idea is that Jace and Clary are sort of "chosen ones" and it's up to either of them to save the Shadowhunters. The problem is, Jace won't ever kill Clary, and if it's Clary that gets the one wish, who knows if the demon in her will take over and make a bad decision?**

**Hope all that makes sense! Anyways, enjoy and review, because reviews make me happy. **

**ONE LAST THING: I watched the premier, midnight showing of Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince last night, and OH MY GOODNESS, it's the best Harry Potter movie so far. It was totally epic. It's so tied with Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen. I've read the whole Harry Potter series, and man, the 6****th**** movie was almost as good as the book, in my opinion. Anyways, sorry for delaying your reading time, lol. **

**Enjoy!**

**Panophobia – fear of everything.**

Clary stood at the end of the hallway, her face a mask of fright. She was obviously scared I would tell her to go away, to leave me alone. Heck, _I _was afraid _I'd_ do that. But some impulse took control of me, and I ran at her, grabbing her face and kissing the life out of her. If only I could kiss the demon out of her.

But I didn't, I just kissed her, hard, on the lips, suddenly noticing how much I really missed her, and how much I would never be able to stay away from her, no matter how much demon blood, bird blood, or kangaroo blood she contained. I had pushed her up against the wall now, and Clary pushed against my chest. I pulled away slightly.

"Something wrong?" I murmured, twisting a strand of her hair around my finger.

"Well yeah," she murmured back, "I thought you had left me or something." I pulled her along behind me, into my room. I placed my hands on both of her cheeks. I could feel the bone beneath my hands. I leaned my forehead against hers.

"I'd never leave you Clary." And then we were kissing again and somehow we were on the bed, my arms around Clary, her hands tangled in my hair. She seemed to be as desperate as I was to rid our minds of the days we had been apart. Clary broke away to catch her breath, as I kissed down her throat. She somehow tore off my shirt without parting my lips from her skin, and then her cold hands were exploring my chest, and I tried my hardest not to shiver.

And all too quickly, she shoved against my chest until I just hovered above her.

"What's wrong?" I breathed, trailing a fingertip across her collarbone.

"I need some explanation," she whispered, her fingers running through my hair again. "What did I do?"

"It's not you Clary," I told her with a sigh. "Don't worry about it."

"Are you sure?" she asked me warily. "Cause I can go if somethings-"

"Clary," I interrupted her, my arms encircling her, so that we laid on the bed, her back against my chest. I leaned my cheek on her fiery hair, my lips at her ear. "You really think I want you to go?"

"I hope not," she said in a small voice.

"I don't want you to go," I admitted. "Not yet at least. But I do have to tell you something," I added. Why not now? It'd be better if she knew beforehand. And I couldn't keep this off. Plus, I had to know if she had known all along, or if she would still feel the same once she found out. She started to move, but I tightened my grip. So instead, she twisted around to face me, and it took all I had to not close those few inches between us with my lips.

"Tell me," she commanded, her green eyes bright and curious. God, she was beautiful. I would keep my gold eyes locked on her green ones, I promised myself.

"I had this… vision sort of thing. Which was why I hadn't been coming to school," I started off hesitantly, "I'd been stuck in bed. So I've been having these dreams about you. Sometimes in my dreams, you're an angel Clary. But sometimes, you're not. Sometimes you're," I paused, and Clary's breathing was coming faster, "a demon," I finished. Her eyes widened, but she didn't look away. She didn't seem scared or angry, only shocked.

"So it's true," she whispered.

"You knew?" I asked hoarsely, disbelieving.

"No," she answered, "but I did have one dream about… me being like that." To my complete terror, water brimmed up in her eyes, one tear spilling down her cheek. "So what does this mean, Jace?" she cried silently. "I'm a monster, aren't I?" I gasped and shook my head frantically.

"No, Clary. No you're not a monster," I replied automatically, my voice hysterical. "You're not a monster. I love you Clary." She gasped as I said the last part, and her tears came harder. She jumped back from me, easily escaping my iron grip, and stood at the edge of the bed. Her hands covered her mouth, trying to restrain the loud sobs that threatened to escape. Her eyes burned with fear and regret, and for a second, they flashed with a blazing anger and I dreadfully thought I could glimpse the demon in her.

Then the flash was gone, and Clary was bolting from the room, her loud sobs echoing behind her.

***************************************************************************************

CLARY'S POV

I ran, sprinted from Jace's room, from the dreadful truth of the real me, and the lie that someone as perfect as Jace could actually love me. I ran down the hallway. I could feel Jace right behind me, calling out my name. He caught me right in front of the elevator. He jerked me so that I faced him. I stared up into his golden bright eyes.

"Clary it's alright. You're not _all _demon. You have to let me finish." But I didn't want to hear the rest. I knew enough, and I knew what I had to do about it. Jace wouldn't let me go though, I knew it. And I knew what would make him let me leave, for now at least.

"It doesn't matter what the other half of me is," I hissed, putting venom into my voice, "I'm a monster and _nothing's going to change that_." Then, in the swiftest movement I was capable of, I rushed into the elevator and slammed it in Jace's glorious face.

I cried the whole way home, and I cried myself to sleep. Rachel let me stay home the next day, while she went out for the day. I cried the whole morning away. My dream had showed me as my real self. I wasn't a Shadowhunter. I wasn't Nephilim. I was a demon, a monster, the thing Shadowhunters loathed, killed. Jace didn't love me. He couldn't. He was one of them, and I was his enemy. Even though I had wanted so much to believe in those three words he had said, I knew they couldn't be true. I had fallen into the trap. I fell in love with him, I fell for the act. How could I be so naïve?

My bawling turned to sniffling around lunch time. I sat up and shuffled into the bathroom to take a long shower, the boiling water burning my skin. I didn't care, I let it smolder me. After my shower I pulled on a black wife beater and pajama shorts. It was torture. I looked terrible. There were dark bags under my eyes, and my skin was sickly pale. My cheekbones threatened to break through my skin, and my collarbones jutted out sharply. I stumbled over to the couch in my room and flipped on the TV. I fell asleep, the remote slipping out of my grip and onto the floor. Sleep was like a demon itself now, pulling me into more nightmares.

_This time, I wasn't with Jace. I was alone in the dark. There were no lights, just darkness that engulfed me. I was watching myself from above again. I was wearing what I had fallen asleep in. My eyes were narrowed, and my irises were terrible red, my pupils large. Leathery wings protruded from my back, stabbing the air with their two bone tipped points. _

_I cringed away from the expression on my face. My lips were twisted into a wicked smile, two fangs peeking out of my red upper lip. _

_Suddenly, the scenery changed, and I was walking along a forest. Tall assortments of trees towered above my figure, and dim light seeped through their branches, casting a greenish light. The only sound was the wind whistling through the leaves. _

_Then, a rustling from a nearby bush. The Clary I was watching tensed, shifting into a catlike crouch. Out of a grouping of plants stumbled a young girl, probably 10 years old. She was scruffy and it was obvious she was lost. She had sandy blond hair and innocent features. A black mark on her right hand suggested that she was indeed a Shadowhunter. When she saw me, she froze, her eyes glazing over in horror. _

_I wanted to scream and tear my eyes out as I watched my other self pounce on the young girl, as I tore at her skin with sharp claws._

_As my fangs sunk into her neck to rip, to shred, to kill. _

When I awoke, my panting was frantic, my breath shaking my hollow ribs. On an impulse I staggered to the bathroom, leaning over the counter and staring down my reflection. I almost fainted. Stupidly, I pinched myself. This wasn't a dream.

My horrid reflection stared back at me. I wanted to look away, but I couldn't. I was trapped in the eyes of a predator, who was me.

My eyes were a bloody crimson, framed by thick black lashes. They should have been beautiful, but they looked terrifying. I opened my mouth, and let out a whimper at the sight of two large incisors on each side of my mouth. And worst of all, black wings had sprouted from the base of my spine. I wanted to vomit. I did vomit; blood staining the linoleum of the bathroom counter. Then sobs broke through, tears raining down my cheeks, my arms bracing myself as I leaned over the sink. Glancing up at my reflection, the creature that stared back looked so silly; a lethal predator weeping hysterically.

I bolted out of the bathroom and scrammed down the stairs, the wings attached to my back feeling heavy, a literal burden on my back. In the kitchen, Rachel was leaning against the counter, chattering on the phone. I didn't stop; I lunged for the largest kitchen knife I could get a hold of. The phone slipped from Rachel's grasp and onto the floor with a loud toll.

"Clary," she whispered in horror, a hand flying to her mouth, "What the hell is this?" she half shrieked and took a small step forward. I didn't respond, only glared. I twirled around to run back to the bathroom. Rachel was stumbling along behind me. She grabbed my arm right outside the bathroom door. "Clary!" she shouted, demanding my attention. "What the fuck happened?" she asked angrily, though fear was coming off of her in waves. She eyed the knife in my hands and the wings on my back, but her eyes avoided mine. I shoved her with one arm, surprised at my strength. While I could, I slammed the door on her face and locked it, shoving mom's wooden table against it so no one could come in. Rachel was pounding on the door feverishly, yelling my name and demanding me to come outside. I dropped the knife onto the counter and just stared at my reflection some more.

I could faintly hear Rachel shouting into a phone to someone to come here instantly. More tears streamed down my face. My red eyes were like fire.

_I will keep my eyes on my reflection_, I vowed to myself. Fully aware, fear and grief coursing through my veins, I reached for the knife. The handle was smooth and cold in my hand. Rachel was pounding on the door harder now which made my sobbing become worse. I watched as I jerked the blade backward, into the center of the right wing. I refused to call it my own. I screamed and tossed my head back, but did not eject the knife from the leathery membrane. Dark red blood spilled from the wound and when I yanked the blade out, another shout of pain escaped my lips.

I continued onto the next wing. I sliced downward jaggedly, and countless sobs spilled from my mouth.

_This couldn't be happening_, I kept repeating in my mind, _I had to destroy this invading monster. _

Satisfied with the amount of blood pouring out of the wounds, I dropped the knife onto the counter. I looked like the angel of death.

"_Go away!" _I shrieked at my reflection through the sobbing, my tone pleading. _"I'll kill you! I will _kill_ you!" _I promised over and over again. My heart was beating chaotically, pounding in my chest. _"I can't have a heart,"_ I stated aloud, "_Monsters do not have hearts."_ With difficulty, I shed myself of my tank top so that I stood in just my black bra and pajama shorts. I never noticed how skinny I was. My ribs were visible. I placed a hand over the thumping in my chest, where my heart supposedly was. Except demons didn't have hearts. Humans did, and I obviously was not human.

A new voice was yelling from outside the door now. A voice I always longed for.

"Clary!" Jace yelled angrily. "Open the God damn door!"

"_Leave me alone!"_ I screeched, hurtling a vase of flowers at the door. It shattered, the glass scattering on the blood covered floor. _"You don't love me!"_ I cried out pathetically. The beating inside my chest was coming harder now, threatening to break through my skin.

I couldn't take it anymore; "my" reflection, the fact that I was a demon, spawn of the devil, and how I loved someone that couldn't possibly love me back. I couldn't take the fear as well. Fear of how bad I had fallen for Jace, fear of how much I could hurt the ones I loved, and fear of myself. I was afraid of everything.

I reached for the knife again. I had to grip the hilt tighter now. I pressed the point of the blade above where a heart was supposed to be. I twisted the blade, into the skin. Then, I dragged it down my skin, in between ribs, just as the door banged open.

**A/N: Sorry for all the angst. I know some of you will be all, Clary wouldn't act like that!**

**But think about it… what if you figured out **_**you**_** were a monster, when you had lived your whole life as a human, learning compassion, forgiveness, etc. **

**And then suddenly, you learn that a part of you was made to kill, to go against everything in your nature. **

**Well, review! **


	13. Pyrophobia

**A/N: YOU'RE ALL SO AMAZING! You have no idea how big my smile is whenever I read your reviews. You're all so supportive, it just brightens up my day. Also, I really can't take credit for the idea of my chapter titles, hehe. I got that idea from the book Need, though I don't use the exact same phobias. So thanks to Carrie Jones for inspiring me to do that. **

**ON WITH THE STORY:**

**Pyrophobia - Fear of fire.  
**

I wasn't expecting such horror when I broke down that bathroom door and found myself standing in a pool of blood. I would never expect Clary to do something this atrocious. Countless times my "teenage hormones" would overtake me, imagining Clary topless.

Now I wished she would put her t-shirt back on. There she stood, _my Clary_, demon wings protruding from her back, large fangs and red eyes, blood spilling from so many wounds. Now the blade of the knife was slicing in between visible ribs, tearing through her skin horrifically. I cursed a long string of profanities as I lunged toward her, shoving the knife out of her hand and knocking her down to the tiled bathroom floor. I restrained her wrists with my hands. She thrashed and kicked at me, tears streaming down her face, screaming out, _"You don't love me" _over and over. The blood on her chest and stomach seeped into my black shirt. She stopped struggling, so I let her go. Once she was free, she back pedaled, curling up, her back against the wall. She stared at me with fear, like I was going to hurt her.

Again, she was murmuring choruses of, _"you don't love me" _and _"Kill me"_. Her words seemed to stab at my heart. But I was too angry and terrified to cry. I inched toward her slowly, so she didn't do anything rash.

"Clary," I whispered. A big sob broke out when I said her name. "I won't hurt you. Let me help you." After seconds that seemed to drag on, she laid on the cold floor, curling up on herself. On each wing was a gaping hole, blood spilling out uncontrollably. The jagged lines above her heart were open and gory, just like the lines that continued down to her stomach. When I finally reached her, I took out my stele. I placed a hand on her side, and surprisingly she didn't recoil. I placed the tip of my stele on her chest. I skillfully drew an iratze. But instead of the rune being an inky black, it was traced with a blazing fiery red. _It was_ _on fire_, I registered in shock. Clary let out a blood curdling scream of pain, arching her back, her eyes rolling back to reveal the whites.

"Clary!" I shouted, placing my hands all over her skin, burning myself in the process. "Clary what's wrong? Clary I'm sorry!" Now, silent tears streamed down my face. I brushed them aside. I had to stay strong for Clary and I. The iratze was still glowing with red flames, but the jagged wounds above her heart and in between her ribs were starting to heal, faster than I'd ever seen in my life. But she was still writhing in agony. I sighed, exasperated, and gathered her in my arms. Rachel led me to Clary's room, sobbing uncontrollably. I laid Clary on the bed. The blaze of the iratze was fading now, to just an orange scar.

"I'll need bandages, and a wet cloth," I told Rachel hurriedly. The iratze wasn't as bright anymore, and the slices on her skin weren't spewing blood, though they were still a bright red. The wounds on her wings were starting to close, gradually. Rachel handed me the wet cloth and shut the door behind her, trying to rid herself of the image of Clary's state. I sat beside Clary, who was laying still, her crimson eyes staring up at the ceiling. She looked impassive, her eyelids heavy with fatigue. I carefully wiped away the blood, tracing along the wounds that twisted and snared on her skin. I hesitantly dabbed at the wing gashes. I didn't think I would be able to bandage those. Clary drifted off to sleep as I wrapped bandages around her stomach painstakingly. I taped the wounds over her heart shut with numerous band aids. She slept soundlessly, and she looked impossibly peaceful, even after the events of the night. Once I was done cleaning her up –well, the cleanest she could get after stabbing herself- I threw myself into the armchair beside her bed. I wanted so much to curl up beside her, but I knew if I moved her she would wake up in pain.

So I watched her as she slept motionlessly. Watching her sleep made me feel exhausted. I could feel my eyelids growing heavier, closing in. I eventually fell asleep, my eyes fluttering closed. It was a dreamless sleep. I figured that, since I guess I knew everything now, I didn't need to be given visions or clues and whatnot. By the time I woke up, it was 7:32 AM. The room was lit dimly by the sunlight that seeped in through the curtain of the window. Clary was still curled up on the bed asleep, but astonishingly, her wings were gone, along with the fangs. I breathed out a sigh of relief. I wonder how that worked, if we would be walking along the streets and suddenly Clary would sprout wings and fangs and try to rip out the throats of New Yorkers. I shuddered at the thought, scolding myself. There was a note on the bedside table. It was from Rachel, written in a bold script, her phone number at the bottom.

_Gone to work, _it read, _Don't go to school today. Watch over Clary. Call me in case of emergency. 50 bucks in cookie jar. – Rachel _

I placed the paper back on the table and stood up, stretching. I pulled the cloth of my shirt away from my chest in disgust. It was covered in crusted blood, some parts singed from the iratze that burst into flames. I pulled off the shirt swiftly, starting to the bathroom to wash off the blood when a voice stopped me.

"Sorry about your shirt," Clary said quietly, watching me with sleepy eyes. That were green now, thank the Angel. I threw the shirt onto the armchair and rushed to her side, kneeling down so that I was eye to eye with her. She smiled a bit.

"Clary," I breathed, "how are you feeling?"

"Better." Was her simple reply. She didn't say it with much conviction though. I got up slowly and cautiously rolled her onto her back so I could see her stomach. I carefully pulled back the bandages. The wounds snaked into her pale skin were raised scarlet scars now, and outlining the scars were purplish/bluish bruises. It wasn't a pretty site. I rolled up the bandages, not needing them since there was no more blood, and tossed them in the trashcan beside the bed. I guess my expression was either terrified or revolted because Clary said,

"I look that bad, huh?" her voice hoarse. I knelt down and placed a hand on her cheek.

"No, no, no," I told her, "You're beautiful Clary." She chuckled lightly.

"You're just saying that," she replied. "But thank you." I reached a hand out and traced along the scars. She winced and yelped slightly as my hand pressed over the bruises. I snatched my hand back and took a step away.

"Sorry," I apologized.

"It's okay," she murmured. "Come back," she commanded me. I sat on the small space of bed beside her. "Sorry," she whispered, tearing her eyes away from my gaze. Her face was torn now, sad and angry. I placed a hand on the side of her neck.

"Don't be."

"Well I am. It's my entire fault. Sorry is practically an understatement," she mumbled.

"Clary it's fine. I'm the one that should be sorry. I rushed into telling you I think," I explained hurriedly. "So I'm sorry."

"Too sorry for a kiss?" Clary surprised me by asking.

"Not at all." I leaned down and placed a light kiss on her smiling lips. She wound her arms around my neck but I pulled away, placing her arms beside her. She was pouting.

"I meant a real kiss," she stated, faking anger.

"Not until you've healed fully."

"That's not fair."

"It's not fair that I'm concerned about your health?"

"It's not fair that you are depriving me of my personal drug."

"Hey, they're _my_ lips."

"So you don't want to kiss me?"

I sighed. "You're ridiculous."

"So you don't want to kiss me because I'm ridiculous."

"Clary, you don't know how much I want to kiss you, whether your ridiculous or not."

"So kiss me."

"No."

"But you said you wanted to!" I was surprised she could speak so fervently, even when she had a stomach lined with purple bruises.

"I do want to. But I can't."

"Said who? They're my lips, I say you can."

"Clary I'm not going to kiss you."

"Why not?"

"I might hurt you."

"_You _might hurt _me?_ Did you see those fangs last night?" she asked me, shrilly. Her eyes were blazing, angry. I matched them with my own.

"Let's not mention last night for a while," I warned her darkly.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, not an ounce of physical pain in her eyes, "So that's why you won't kiss me-"

"Clary," I tried to cut her off, but she continued, her voice rising.

"You don't want to kiss me because I'm a _demon_!" she said hysterically. I swore, and half angrily and half willingly, grabbed her face between my hands and kissed her fiercely. I jerked her head back about an inch.

"Happy?" I asked, smirking. She shook her head and twined her arms around my neck.

"Not yet," she retorted before she kissed me just as fiercely. I was careful not to put pressure on her bruised body as I knotted my fingers in her hair and kissed her back longingly. I broke away and kissed along her jaw as she traced my collar bones and neck. I could feel the triumph radiating off of her. "I win," she snickered. I pulled back with a dark chuckle.

"You've really got a hold on me," I admitted.


End file.
